


The Deepest Bond

by zinger17



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Swanfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:57:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinger17/pseuds/zinger17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many different kinds of bonds but those of love and betrayal run the deepest. Missing scene in Dark Hollow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deepest Bond

The worst part of Neverland isn’t the mermaids, the mind games, or even the complete isolation only Dark Magic can bring. It is the darkness itself. 

Winters in the Frontlands had nothing on the Island of the Lost Boys. Days upon endless days lost in a cold, black haze, until it feels like the isle itself is sucking you in, dragging you down. The oppressive gloom creeping in, wrapping around you, pressing, crushing, suffocating…Neal digs in fingernails into his forearm, centering himself in the here and the now.

Henry. Above all else, he has to think of Henry. His boy needs him now more than he ever did. Needs him to stay focused on finding him, saving him, then getting him the hell off this island of the damaged and the broken.

“Hey.” Jerking about quickly, Neal catches sight of Emma dropping down to sit beside him. She must have shadowed him when he’d decided to retreat to this rocky clearing. Damn, she’d gotten good. “Everyone’s getting their stuff together. When do you think we should start heading towards the valley of sunshine and rainbows? You know, since we’re supposed to think happy thoughts and all that shit?”

His lips twitched for the first time since he’d fallen through that green portal. Emma always did have a way with words.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Neal tries to think. “Uh, let’s give it another half-hour. Pan’s camp should be moving soon, east most likely. He always goes off by himself afterwards. Give’s us some element of surprise anyways.”

“Wow. I guess you really know how he thinks,” Emma shifts, stretching her legs out in front of her. “We’ve been running around chasing our tails for a week and here you know exactly what he’s going to do.”

Neal jerks his shoulder. “I was here a long time.” He can’t figure her tone or what she means by that comment. And, like the coward he is, he doesn’t really want to find out.

“Yeah. Saw your artwork. It’s pretty good stuff. Why’d you quit?” 

The flickering flames shadow dance on the ferns and leafs in front of him, their only source of light. It reminds him of the fires in rusted garbage cans under dark, Jersey bridges. “I didn’t want to afterward. I loved it- my sketches. But I guess they…”

“Reminded you of bad times?” Emma’s words are spoken to the leafs and saplings as well.

When he doesn’t respond, sitting stiff and still as a board, Emma just puffs out a breath, then turns away. “See? You understand Pan. I understand you. Or I thought I did, anyway.”

Neal’s hand moves blindly, finding his forearm and digging in til he can breathe again. “I…I thought you didn’t want to deal with any of that? Put it all behind you?”

“It would've been easier. A lot easier. We both know how to cut and run, you know? I’m good at that. This? Not so much.” Emma's laugh is sad and self-depressing and he can’t hold it in any longer.

“Listen, Em about that…” Her eyes are tired and her body is tensing for another hard blow she shouldn’t have to take and he’d rather cut his own arm off than hurt her but no matter what he does he can’t seem to stop. “I just…I need to say this. Since we’re talking about it and all.”

She isn’t saying anything but she isn’t running or shutting him down either. She’s stock still, listening.

A deep breath isn’t going to make this hurt any less. Best to just jump right in.

“I just wanted you to know…after all this…I think I get it now. You, I mean. At least I think I do. Tamara…I loved her. I really, really did. She was funny, you know? Could always make me laugh, no matter what was going on. She loved animals and thought Led Zeppelin was the best thing to happen to mankind and hated flying and…I just really loved her. And I thought she loved me. And now? Now, turns out it’s just a big pile of dirt and lies.” It’s his turn to laugh humorlessly, a dry, choked chuckle. 

“And the worst, the very worst part of it is wondering if any of it, anything at all was real, you know? Did she really like running? Did she want to wait all night to see Captain America or was she just stringing me along? Did she think my jokes were funny or was she laughing because she was thinking about what a complete idiot I was being, falling for her trick? Christ,”

His eyes are dry, his throat is tight. Neal fervently wishes he could cry but wishes are for kind, benevolent fairies and there is no kindness or magic beans or pixie dust to be found on the island of the lost.

“When I had to leave…when I chose to leave you, I guess I got so fixated that having a family was what I’d always wanted I didn’t think about what it would cost you to get it. I…I just wanted you to be happy Emma. And I thought finding your parents and finding out you were loved, that you had a home- that was how you’d find it. But I didn’t think, I didn’t know…it doesn’t matter what I was trying to do. You thought I’d never loved you and I’m so, so sorry for that Emma.” 

Strange that after so long of fearing and despising darkness he should be grateful for it now. It shadows his face, covering his shameful weakness as he slumps forward, rung out and empty.

“It matters.”

The whisper is barely there, a drifting promise on the wind but Neal hears it. And, like magic, like light, it fills him again.

Emma’s hand creeps over, sliding into his and together they cling, the Lost Boy and the Lost Girl, bound together in the dark.


End file.
